Chapter 3

The air reeked of death.

Panic ripped through me. I tried to bolt upright, but my body would not move.

“Wendy, what the hell are you doing?!” My voice shook with terror.

She said nothing, her face blank as she continued pouring gasoline over me.

The cold gasoline soaked through my clothes and clung to my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably.

When she was done, she tossed the empty gas can aside.

Then she pulled a lighter from her pocket.

Click.

A tiny flame flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow across her expressionless face. She looked terrifying.

“Now we’ll be even.” She finally spoke, but her voice was frighteningly calm.

“This is how you pay your debt to Cyrus…”

I stared at the flame, my mind completely blank.

Was I really going to die? By my own wife’s hands?

“No… please…” The words barely escaped my throat.

She looked at the terror on my face. Then, somehow, she smiled.

That smile was more terrifying than anything I had ever seen.

She raised the lighter and slowly stepped toward me.

I could feel the heat of the flame. I could even smell the singed ends of my hair.

Just when I thought I was going to die, she suddenly stopped.

She brought the lighter right up to my face, forcing me to look at the dancing flame.

Then she blew it out.

“Dying would be too easy for you. Someone like you deserves to stay alive and suffer.”

She dropped the words like a curse, then turned around and walked out.

I collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, already drenched in gasoline.

I did not dare to close my eyes again that night.

As soon as the sun came up, I called the police.

When they arrived, they were even startled by the overwhelming smell of gasoline filling the apartment.

When they questioned Wendy, she suddenly broke down sobbing.

She clutched her head and curled up in the corner, insisting she did not know anything. She claimed that she had been under so much stress over our son that she had apparently done it in her sleep.

“I love him more than anything. Why would I ever hurt him?”

She sobbed like her heart was breaking.

The officers looked at her tear-streaked face, then at me, the man everyone believed was responsible for what happened to Cyrus. Their expressions grew complicated.

In the end, they merely lectured me. They told me to be more understanding of my wife’s emotional state and suggested I take her to see a therapist.

Then they left.

That was when something inside me finally died.

This was not love. It was hatred, and pure, naked revenge.

I confronted Wendy.

“Let’s get divorced.” The moment I said those words, it felt like I had finally dropped a thousand-pound weight from my shoulders.

Wendy was giving Cyrus his medication. Her hand trembled. The spoon slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor.

She looked up. For the first time, I saw panic in her eyes.

“What did you say?”

“I said I want a divorce.”

“I'll leave with nothing. The house, the savings, everything will go to you and Cyrus.”

I expected her to explode, or maybe laugh in my face, yet she did not.

She simply stared at me as the color slowly drained from her face.

“Caleb, you can’t divorce me.” Her voice trembled.

“Why not? What’s the point of staying together like this?”

“You owe me! You owe Cyrus!”

She flew into another hysterical fit.

“You think you can divorce me, abandon your wife and son, and run off with some other woman? Forget it!”

I was exhausted.

I did not want to fight with her anymore.

“I’ve made up my mind. I’ll move out in the next few days. Don’t worry. I’ll still come every day to take care of Cyrus. We just need some time apart to clear our heads. I’m sorry…”

I turned around and went back to the bedroom to pack.

Behind me came the sound of her screaming and smashing things.

I did not look back.

I went straight to my parents’ house.

They took one look at me, a wreck of a man, and heaved a sigh.

“Caleb, Wendy is hurting too,” my mother said gently.

“Mom, she tried to burn me alive.”

My mother was startled for a moment.

I told them what had happened with the gasoline.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

“This is insane!” my father finally exploded, slamming his hand against the table.

“She was trying to kill you!”

“But… nobody else knows that.”

My mother looked deeply concerned.

“If you divorce her now, what will people say? They’ll say you abandoned your wife and son when they needed you most. Your reputation will be ruined.”

“My reputation?” I gave a bitter laugh.

“What reputation do I have left?”

From everyone’s perspective, I was the monster who had destroyed his own son and driven his wife to the brink of insanity.

My parents understood the situation perfectly. Wendy would never admit what she had done.

If I insisted on divorcing her, I would not just be unable to clear my name. I would also be branded a man who abandoned his wife and child.

Then my situation would become even worse than it was now.

Once everyone believed I was guilty, there was nothing I could say to change their minds.